


The Demon you Know

by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)



Series: And There But For The Grace [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, demon steve rogers, fallen angel steve rogers, salty language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygreen/pseuds/leveragehunters
Summary: If you're a demon who a) needs to wake a combat-trained house guest from a nightmare and b) you know your guest has issues with demons, you probably shouldn't do it by touching him...even if you're a demon he knows. This is a just a short little thing that comes after And There But For The Grace. Clint is staying with Steve and Bucky in their house in the mountains and doesn't react well when Steve wakes him from a nightmare.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shaish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/gifts).



> This comes between [And There But For The Grace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7262050/chapters/16488355) and [Phosphorescence](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7608292/chapters/17316373).

Steve stirred, lifting his head. He felt Bucky shift against him and ran a hand down his arm, soothing him back into deep sleep. He'd heard something, but it wasn't a sound that spoke of danger; it was distress, it was pain. It pulled at him.

He slipped out of bed, put on a shirt, and made his way downstairs.

They weren't alone in their house in the mountains. Clint was staying with them. Since they'd refused Fury's offer, Clint had come to stay with them a few times. He'd said it was to get away from the city and they both believed him—to an extent. They suspected he was also here to be Fury's eyes. To an extent, they could accept it. Better the devil you knew and they liked him well enough; were starting to think of him as a friend, however unwilling Bucky might be to admit it.

It was Clint who was making those noises, asleep on their couch and trapped deep in the depths of a nightmare. It pulled Steve towards him, pulled at him to try and bring him out of it. Steve knew about nightmares now, knew how terrible they felt, and he reached out to try and wake him, to try and reassure him that everything was fine, that he was safe.

Touch was a mistake. The moment his hand brushed Clint's skin, Steve _knew_ he'd made a mistake, but it was too late.

Clint twisted, grabbed, pulled and threw. Steve didn't resist, tucking and rolling to land safely. He crouched low, making himself less of a threat, because Clint was on his feet, the gun in his hands pointed right between Steve's eyes.

"Easy, Clint. It's okay," Steve said softly, soothingly, the way he'd talk to Bucky. It was where he'd gone wrong, reacting to Clint's nightmare like he'd react to Bucky's. Bucky was the only one he'd ever tried to bring out of a nightmare and touch was automatic. To Bucky, Steve's touch meant safety and home.

Not to Clint.

To Clint, at least when he was lost in a nightmare, Steve's touch had been a threat.

The gun didn't waver. Clint's eyes were cold, distant, like he was a million miles away. Wherever Clint was, Steve didn't think it was here in the living room with him. Steve shivered. The gun wouldn't kill him, but it would kill this body and then Bucky... Steve would have a hard time stopping Bucky from killing Clint. He couldn't get the gun away from Clint without hurting him and he didn't want to do that.

"I'm sorry I touched you." He pitched his voice low. "I won't ever do it again. I was only trying to help."

Clint's laugh filled the room and it was hard, but it held an edge of nightmare fuelled panic. "You're a demon. Demons don't help."

"Not quite a demon, remember? Your protections didn't burn me."

"So you're something worse, a demon no one can stop. No one can be safe from."

"What can I do? What can I do to make you feel safe?"

Clint licked his lips and his gaze sharpened, piercing Steve like a knife. "Tell me your name."

Steve went inhumanely still. They'd never told Clint his name, never used even _Steve_ when Clint was here, for all that he'd be able to find it out from people in town if he went asking. Safe in this body his name might not have any power to bind him, but it was still his _name;_ telling it to someone who knew what it meant, who knew what he was... From the look on his face, Clint knew what he was asking.

When Steve stayed silent, Clint sneered, "That's what I thought."

Steve closed his eyes, looking deep inside himself. Opened them, studying Clint, seeing the fear he was trying to hide, but it was written in the line of his body, etched in the shadows under his eyes. "Do you know where you are?"

Clint bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. "Doesn't matter where I am. I know what you are."

Which was all the answer Steve needed. However okay his waking mind might be with be with Steve, his subconscious knew he'd been sleeping in the same house as a demon. It had sent him somewhere else, someplace where Steve was just another demon and demons were to be feared. He took a deep breath and for the second time in his existence cast caution to the winds. "My name is Steven."

Shock rippled across Clint's face and his eyes cleared. "Steven."

Steve nodded. "I trust you with it." 

Slowly, Clint lowered the gun, blinking rapidly.

"I won't hurt you. I can't possess you unless I leave this body, and I don't think I can do that unless it dies. Even if that happens, the only person I'm going to possess is Bucky." Clint shuddered. "With his consent. You know that."

"I don't understand you. You don't make any sense. I know what demons are. I know what they do. You don't. They don't." He blew out a sharp breath. "Shit." He glanced down at the gun, like he was wondering how it had gotten in his hand. "Shit," he said again quietly.

Steve's tension eased. He was back. "How about I make some tea. It helps Bucky after a nightmare. He complains endlessly that it tastes like dirt, but it helps."

"You're not going to tell me to put the gun away?"

"No. I want you to feel safe and I don't know how else to make that happen." He paused. "Is it okay if I stand up?" Clint nodded sharply. Steve slowly rose to his feet. "Is it okay if I make some tea?" Another nod. "Do you want to watch me?" At Clint's brief look of surprise, he added, "To make sure I don't put anything in it that's not supposed to be there."

"No," he said. "No." He sat back down on the couch and rested his forehead in the hand not holding the gun.

Steve walked into the kitchen, moving quietly, lifting the kettle off the stove before it could whistle, not wanting to startle Clint. Definitely not wanting to wake Bucky. When the tea was done, he set the mug on the edge of the coffee table, then backed away, dropping to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Clint turned his head to look at him. "I guess I should say I'm sorry for pointing a gun at you in your own house."

"No." Steve shook his head. "I should be apologising to you. I never should have touched you."

"Why did you?"

"Automatic reaction. You were having a nightmare. It's what I do for Bucky. I don't," he held out his hands, palms up, "I don't have any other experience. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I did it, but it was too late to take it back. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"Yeah, you said that already."

"I meant it."

Clint was silent, turning that over, before he fixed Steve with a sharp look. "Is that really your name?"

Steve nodded once.

"Why did you tell me?"

"It was what you needed to know to feel safe."

"You were worried about me feeling safe when I was pointing a gun at you."

"I'm not sure you knew where you were," Steve said gently. "So I'm not sure it was actually me you were pointing a gun at."

Clint looked away.

"Drink your tea," Steve told him. "It helps."

Clint picked up the tea, took a sip, and grimaced. "That tastes like shit."

Steve smiled. "That's what Bucky says." He hesitated, then added, "When we were both in his body, he used to make me drink it." Clint tensed. Steve went on, "Said if I thought it was so good, I could suffer through drinking it. I never thought it was that bad."

"The way you talk about it, it's like it was something normal."

"Maybe not normal," Steve said. "But it was right for us."

"I can't—" He stopped, blew out a long breath and very deliberately set the gun on the table.

"Thank you."

Clint nodded. "Most of me knows I don't have anything to worry about from you, especially with you stuck in that body. But there's one tiny part of me." Steve could see something like regret, like apology in the edges of his eyes. "It really thinks I should shoot you with that gun then bind you with your name and send you back to Hell."

"You might be able to kill my body, but you wouldn't make it out of this house alive," Steve said softly.

"Good thing I'm not going to do anything like that, then. I _don't_ want to. I'm not going to. I know what I owe you and Bucky. It's just a feeling that's hard to shake sometimes." He took a sip of tea and made a face.

Steve looked down at his hands, then tilted his head as he studied Clint. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Clint's eyes went wide. "With _you_?"

"If it's got to do with demons, there's probably no one else in the world who's going to understand better than me."

"Huh." Clint quietly sipped his tea, hands wrapped around the mug like he needed the warmth, staring off into the distance. "I guess I owe you an explanation after the whole pointing a gun at you thing."

He was silent for so long after that, Steve wasn't expecting him to speak. When he did, Steve wasn't expecting him to say, "I grew up in the circus. We saw a lot of strange things. We saw what's left behind when demons roll through people's lives. The back roads, the small towns, that's where evil goes." He took a sip of tea. "That's where we found it. That's where I was when you woke me up."

Steve settled into calm stillness, watching Clint. "The circus hired a new act, he called himself the Swordsman. He was brilliant, took me on as his apprentice. But he wasn't a good guy and it turned out he wasn't brilliant. He was possessed. But he was so good at pretending to be human, he flew under everyone's radar. I let my guard down, never saw it coming. One minute, everything's fine, next minute, I had a demon in me."

He was afraid the mug was going to smash under the strain, Clint was squeezing it so hard. "But I got hurt, I got hurt so badly I almost died, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me because it made me useless. The demon didn't want to wait around for me to heal and left me for dead." Clint's voice was calm, like he was telling someone else's story, holding none of the strain Steve could see in his white knuckles. "So you can understand why I've got a problem with demons."

A flame of protective fury, like he hadn't felt in a long time, kindled to life. "Clint."

"It's part of the reason I joined SHIELD. They're one of the only places left where some people still take demons seriously."

"Clint?" After a moment, Clint's gaze shifted sideways to meet Steve's. "You're safe here. Even if I lost my body, I'd never possess you. I'd never use you. I'd never take your body. You're safe from me." Steve tried a tentative smile. "Apart from anything else, Bucky would never forgive me."

"Yeah, he's a bit on the possessive side." He sighed. "I know you're not like any other demon. I _know_ that, I've seen it. Just," he lifted a hand, "bad timing on the nightmare."

"It wouldn't have happened if you weren't here."

"Maybe, maybe not. It's an old friend." Clint put his chin in his hand, gazing at Steve with a perplexed expression. "I feel weirdly better for having told you all that."

"I'm glad." Steve smiled as he stood and held out his hand for Clint's mug. "You should try and get some sleep," he said as Clint handed it to him.

"You know, for a demon you do a great imitation of a mother hen."

"Now you sound like Bucky."

Clint snorted. Steve flashed him a grin, dropped the mug in the sink, and went back upstairs.  

When he climbed into bed Bucky pulled him into his side and Steve pressed his face into Bucky's neck. Bucky kissed his temple, his cheek, and ran his fingers through Steve's short hair. "How much did you hear?" Steve asked quietly.

"I woke up while Barton was telling his story. I tried not to listen. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." Steve kissed Bucky's chest and sighed.

"What happened?"

"He was having a nightmare, didn't react well when I woke him up, and I had to spend some time talking him down." He was _not_ going to mention the gun. That Clint now knew his name could wait until tomorrow. "He didn't see me, just a demon. I don't think he knew where he was."

Bucky winced.

"It's okay. I made him some of your tea."

Bucky winced again, more dramatically. "And that made things _better?_ "

"Shut up." Steve dug his fingers into Bucky's ribs, grinning as Bucky caught his hand with his metal one.  

"Can we go back to sleep now?" he asked, kissing each of Steve's fingers.

Instead of answering, Steve shifted to wrap himself around Bucky and closed his eyes. Bucky's metal hand slipped down to wrap around his wrist and Steve drifted off to sleep, knowing everyone in the house in the mountains was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> There's also a third part, a little coda that comes after this, over here: [Phosphorescence](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7608292/chapters/17316373).


End file.
